


Winkle

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [43]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock Fluff, M/M, a few more air quotes, birthday fic, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 08:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5327852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>winkle: verb: ˈwiNGk(ə)l: extract or obtain something with difficulty. (British)</p><p>late 16th century: shortening of periwinkle</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winkle

John hated surprises, and as long as he could remember, he hated birthdays, his in particular. Unfortunately, when Sherlock ordered his birth certificate since he could not winkle his middle name out of him, the git also had his date of birth implanted in that great Mind Palace of his, not to mention the fact that the record was framed and hanging on the kitchen wall.

So, naturally as his 40th approached, which somehow coincided with the first anniversary of their first time, he watched Sherlock carefully for signs of any birthday shenanigans. Fortunately, between double shifts and cases, both were too exhausted for shenanigans of any kind and would simply collapse together in bed after barely removing their coats and shoes.

The day finally arrived, and by chance it was a day off for both of them. John slept in a bit, and was surprised to find Sherlock still octopussed around him as usual, his curls tickling his chin, snoring quietly. 

He tried to go back to sleep. Honestly, he did. He just wanted to be sure there were no ghastly birthday decorations lurking in the kitchen, or the loo, or under the couch. So, he carefully extricated himself from his flatmate's arms and legs, kissed his nose and hit the loo. 

Nothing.

He went to the kitchen and started toast and tea. Nothing hiding in the fridge, no black balloons, or brightly wrapped packages.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

He sat at the table and slowly ate toast with the last of the jam, drank two cups of tea, and moped a bit.

Hmmmmmph.

He went over to the couch where he intended to have a long, drawn out sulk of Sherlockian proportions, when he looked at the coffee table and found a note and a small black box.

"John-I know you loathe birthdays, especially yours, so the 'surprise party' will take place at Angelo's tomorrow night. I tried to host it at the morgue, but Molly thought it 'crass.' So, Angelo's it is. Try to act surprised. However, this date is also a year to the day when we made love for the first time, so to honour the occasion, I propose that at some point in the not too distant future, we embrace convention for once and 'tie the knot.' Now stop grinning, you idiot, open the box and come back to bed.

PS: I wish you a very happy 40th birthday, love.  
PPS: Bed. Now."

-S

John stopped grinning, and opened the box to find an elegant, antique pocket watch, inscribed with the date and "Could be dangerous." He paused to collect what was left of his bearings and went back to bed.


End file.
